The Facts in the Case of Miss Casimir
by

Edgar Dalman, a repressed researcher, stumbles upon an ancient artifact that leads him to the mysterious Miss Casimir. Tormented by lustful dreams of this woman, he seeks her out, coming at last to confront the object of his desires and the weird secrets hidden beneath her estate. (F/M)





Genres: ,
Collections: , , , ,
Editor(s): Lon Sarver
Cover Designer(s): Siol na Tine
Cover Art Credits: Adapted from photo © Les3photo8 at Dreamstime.com.
Production Editor(s): Kaye O'Malley
Proofreader(s): Derrick N. Davidson
Length: Short Story (4,500 Words)
Chapter(s): 1
Publication Date: 31, 2017
Serialization Date: Upcoming
Archive(d) on (To be Determined)
Tags: , ,

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Click Here to Read An Excerpt

That night, my dreams took a disturbing turn. Instead of impossible cities or alien beings, it was Miss Casimir who appeared to me. Her hips swayed as she stepped towards me out of the shadows of my unconscious, the nipples on her pert, full breasts flushed and erect. She was completely naked and achingly beautiful. My gaze followed the lines of her collarbones to the delicate curve of her waist and down over her hips and the triangle of dark hair covering her most intimate of places, exploring all the planes and valleys of her creamy skin. I was pinned by the intensity of her gaze, the hot, unfettered desire in it.

She reached out to press her hand to my chest, and her touch was warm and substantial. She ran her fingertips over my skin, and I realized that I too was naked, my skin flushed and my cock stiff between my legs. Elizabeth Casimir (or my dream of her) leaned in close and pressed her lips to mine, parting them with a gentle swipe of her tongue. She kissed me, first delicately, then with increasing hunger.

Effortlessly, she pushed me backwards, laying me out on the marble altar I had visited in past dreams. She knelt over me, looking down her marvelously sculpted nose and smiling the way she had in the museum — as though I was some kind of student in need of her tutelage. Her hands found their way back to my chest, fingers brushing over my nipples. I could feel the heat of her sex against my thigh. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself over me, sliding down onto my cock. I felt her beautiful, slick tightness close around me, and I gasped as she settled into place. Every thought driven from me, a being of pure sensation, I thrust up into her. We fell into rhythm, and while she rode me I forgot how to breathe. I felt a knot of energy forming in my abdomen, blood pounded in my ears while she clawed at my ribcage and threw her head back, clenching down around me. Just as I felt myself about to tip over the edge, I froze, horror-struck, as Miss Casimir transformed into a mass of writhing tentacles and glaring eyes, the very monster depicted on the statue that lead me to her.




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